Back To Reality
by RavenEnchantress
Summary: Yaoi! This is essentially a romantic tale about Quatre and Trowa with some action/drama possibly going on later. Its rated M, just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

Back To Reality

Alright, this is a repost of this chapter. I noticed a couple of spelling errors and one I thought was rather important, so I went back and fixed it. It's my first fan fic so reviews are more than welcome and appreciated. The next chapter is already being worked on and I hope to get it up soon.

I suppose I have to go through the motions…I don't own Gundam Wing, sadly. If I did I'd probably be fairly wealthy by now.

Chapter 1

The alarm clock blared in his ear. Only half conscious, a blonde haired youth groaned, brows furrowing in annoyance and pulled one of two pillows over his head. A few minutes later the offending noise only grew louder. Reluctantly, Quatre Raberba Winner slowly opened his eyes. Vision still blurry and unfocused, he reached over and slapped the alarm clock into quiet submission. With a resigned sigh he pulled himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes into wakefulness before glancing at the clock. It was five fifty am.

Quatre dragged himself out of bed and headed into the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day. Most of his friends would still be in bed for another half hour he knew. Old habits die hard though. The former gundam pilot had never shaken his routine of waking up early in the mornings. However, prepping for a battle or going over an endless supply of information on his enemy had been replaced for the more mundane task of getting ready for a day of high school.

It had been two years since the Mariemaia Incident and everyone had returned to their 'normal' lives. For Heero, that meant constantly standing watch over Relena as her bodyguard; Duo had gone to work with Hilde in the scrap yard (Quatre thought they made a good couple); Trowa had unsurprisingly returned to the circus; Wufei now worked with Sally Po as a Preventer; Relena was keeping herself busy as the diplomatic Vice Foreign Minister; and Quatre...Quatre had decided to go to high school.

It had seemed an odd decision at first to the others, but the ex-pilot wanted to experience some form of normalcy and high school had seemed like the best way to do it. A normal high school experience was a little trickier than initially believed however. Even with his sisters making most of the decisions regarding the wealthy family's business, Winner Enterprises Incorporated, Quatre had felt claustrophobic. On his home colony he had been constantly surrounded by businessmen and women who, despite their good intentions to include him in some of the company's business affairs, simply didn't give him the freedom he so desperately wanted.

So Quatre had decided to leave the colony and attend a high school on Earth. The blonde had loved the earth since he had set foot on the vibrant planet. It had seemed the perfect answer and so in August of AC 197 Quatre Raberba Winner began attending class at Wilmington Academy. It was a quaint city on the coat of what had been Europe. The city housed a moderate number of people, but yet had not detracted anything from the beautiful coastal vistas and stunning landscape.

These thoughts were not on the young Arab's mind however, as he dressed in his uniform consisting of a vibrant red collared button-up shirt, red and black striped tie, black blazer with the school's logo, and finally, black slacks and shoes. Not the most flattering thing he'd worn, but it wasn't hideous either. He waited to put on the blazer though. For the moment it rested upon his briefcase style school bag beside his desk, which was situated against the opposite wall to the bathroom.

Quatre checked himself over for the final time, then grabbed the bag with the blazer and descended the sleek black stairs that lead from the split second story that housed two bedrooms, a den, a full bathroom, and a laundry room, to the first story main room. The whole house, though small, had a modern feel to it along with an open floor plan and plenty of beautiful windows, giving the place a bright and welcoming atmosphere. Setting the bag and blazer next to the door, he walked across the room into the kitchen. The blonde poured himself a quick breakfast consisting of a bowl of cereal and orange juice. Dawn was in full swing with the sun throwing radiant hues of orange, red, and yellow across the water. He paused for a minute, enjoying the beauty of Earth. He was still as awed by the lush planet as he had when he first arrived over two years ago. It was a sight he knew he would never get tired of watching.

As part of his routine, the youth turned on the small TV that hung against the wall amongst the cabinets to watch the morning news. "The conflict between the ESUN and the Republic of Eastern Eurussia has only intensified with the newly seceding country declaring that it has obtained armaments, including mobile suites. The mobile suites are believed to include Taurus and Aries among others, though this information has neither been confirmed nor denied."

Quatre shook his head. The conflict was getting worse and he believed a militaristic conflict was highly probable. Relena Darlian and other representatives from the Earth Sphere Unified Nation and the newly formed Republic of Eastern Eurussia (which consisted of what had formerly been Russia, the Ukraine, Poland, Germany, Austria, and the United Kingdom) had been in discussion for nearly a month now, trying to establish a peaceful resolution between the two entities. The Republic wanted to secede from the ESUN because they disliked being under the control of the ESUN. In the interest of not seeming like a dictatorship and keeping the peace, the ESUN allowed the fledgling country to separate itself. The real problem stemmed from the Republic's demand of rights to armaments. This demand was rejected by the ESUN for reasonable fear of a war. Now however, it all seemed in vain. It seemed to Quatre as if the Republic was hoping for a fight.

In two years of moving forward, it seemed as if they had just moved two years back.

Quatre sighed. It was time to leave. The golden haired youth donned the blazer before swinging his school bag over his shoulder and walked out of the house, locking the door behind him. It took between half an hour and forty five minutes to the Academy, depending on traffic. It was a little far, but he thought the view his house offered more than made up for the extra travel time.

As it was, the walk from his residence took thirty minutes along picture perfect scenic roads that wound lazily amongst traditional earthy homes to the little tram station that took him within ten minutes of Wilmington Academy. As he walked along the now familiar route to the tram Quatre's mind turned away from the depressing world news to a more personal matter. It was mid August and Heero's birthday, which Duo had somehow found and revealed, had come and gone without any word or excitement. Not that he had really expected much else, but Duo had told him that he was hoping to snare Heero from work as Relena's bodyguard to throw a party. Obviously it hadn't worked.

The thought saddened the blonde ex-pilot. He missed the others, especially the tall banged pilot of Heavyarms, Trowa Barton. The two had developed a closeness that was something more than simple camaraderie amongst soldiers. Quatre missed him the most, not in small part to his attraction to the silent youth.

Quatre had realized his attraction to Trowa after he thought he had killed the other in a battle. At the time Quatre had been inconsolable after his father's murder by his own colony and as a result of Quatre's devastated frame of mind, the blonde pilot had created a new mobile suite, the Wing Zero. Enraged by the death of his father and the betrayal of the colony, Quatre had set out to destroy the colonies. In the process, a battle ensued between himself and Heero and Trowa. The intense battle resulted in Quatre regaining is state of mind at the expense of Trowa's welfare. At the time, it was believed that Trowa had not survived.

This was later revealed to be untrue when Duo found Trowa working once again at the circus with Catherine, albeit without any memory of being a gundam pilot. He later regained those memories after piloting Wing Zero in battle.

Despite Trowa's forgiveness, Quatre had never truly forgiven himself for causing so much harm to someone he cared so much about and had brought his deep feelings for the older pilot into revelation. Since then, the blonde had kept any romantic feelings for the other boy to himself. Trowa was hard for Quatre to read from an empathic sense and he didn't want to ruin their friendship that he cherished.

Quatre's thoughts of Heero's nonexistent birthday party led to thoughts of the other pilots and inevitably, Trowa. His meandering thoughts stayed with him all the way to the tram station, through the smooth, uneventful ride, and all the way to school. He was finally brought out of his daydreaming by calls from a group of friends near the entrance to the Academy grounds. The young Arab smiled and waved a casual hand in response.

Back to reality.


	2. Chapter 2

Back to Reality

**Little notes from me:**

Alright I am now officially irritated at pronunciation conflictions. Quatre's middle name is not spelled the way it sounds. I can forgive him that, he's my favorite character and I have nothing against Relena (unlike a lot of people :p), but her last name definitely doesn't match its spelling! Oh how it bugs me -.-….yes, I'm sure I _am_ slightly neurotic.

Also, I just read an amazing essay by Croik (go here .com/essays/gundamwing/) and honestly, they made a lot of sense and shed much light on the complexity that is Gundam Wing. Especially by going into serious character depth and psychology. It's well worth the reading and I suggest anyone who writes or merely aspires to write fan fiction to visit the site and take the time to read the whole thing. All that said, there is a high likelihood of me going back and tweaking some things.

And yes, it anime is complex. Those who think otherwise should watch the show and read the mangas (if possible) again and look deeper. Its there. I promise. : )

Anywhoo, now that I've got that off my chest. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. I know its kinda long and slow going, but its getting there. You can't have too much action without knowing what's really going on, right? I'm just getting warmed up. I hope you like it. And of course, review and reply PLEASE! It really helps.

P.S. I'm looking for a beta reader!! My main concern is grammar, punctuation, paragraphing, and flow.

Chapter 2

The loud raucous behavior of his friends brought the blonde youth's attention into the present. He couldn't help but smile. Their exuberance was infectious. Jaime Lourdes, the blonde haired prima donna stood in the middle of the group. She had pin straight, shoulder length hair framed her sharply angled face. She was dressed identically to all of the other Wilmington girls. Red blouse, red and black striped tie (just like his), black blazer contoured for a lady, and knee length black skirt with matching black shoes.

Flanking her right with his arm draped across her shoulders, was Todd Marks, not one of the sharpest tools in the shed, but an all around good guy. Slightly round in the face and with grey blue eyes, Todd's hair always had a tussled bed-head look to it that could never be tamed despite the girls' best efforts. When you looked at the guy, you wouldn't think academic one bit. He had a body build much like a wrestler, on the short side with square, heavyset shoulders and unsurprisingly, he lifted weights. You could tell. His biceps were quite large, almost looking like a product of steroids.

At the moment Quatre was unsure on weather or not the two were dating. They acted as if they were and the talk was running through Wilmington like wildfire, but they hadn't confirmed nor denied anything yet. Whatever that was worth considering it was high school.

To Todd's right stood petite little Maria Holtz. Though small in stature Maria was a knock out beauty, putting even Jaime's starlet features to shame. The sassy Spaniard almost always had something to say about everything and wasn't afraid to say it to boot. Quite the firecracker, Maria had been called down to the Dean's office more than once for arguing during lecture. Concentrating on her love of dance, she was working hard to audition into the Julliard School of Dance located in what was formerly known as the United States of America.

Positioned on Jaime's left stood twins Eric and Suzzie Baker. Both talented athletes, while Eric dominated the soccer field and track, Suzzie was a nightmare to go against in tennis and was on the verge of going pro as soon as high school was over. Despite their natural talent in sports, both were quite subdued off their respective fields of battle and were currently having a discussion between each other, only occasionally laughing at some smart remark from the others.

And last but surely not least, situated at the end of Eric and Suzzie stood Thomas Pattenson. The black haired youth had eyes the color of worn dark leather and sported a tan that never seemed to fade. Thomas oozed confidence that never wavered, often times acting as the rock of the group when emotions and unavoidable high school drama unfolded within their clique. Soft spoken, but always heard, Thomas possessed an amazing intellect and astute clarity regarding situations. He also seemed to know a little bit of something about everything. Quatre had a feeling he would make either a great lawyer or politician. Or perhaps both.

The group had situated themselves in a loose semi circle just outside the Academy's intimidating gothic style gates, which currently stood open toward the inside, which attached to a nine foot high light grey stone wall that blocked most of the campus' front view. The founders of Wilmington Academy had built the main gates into the stone wall simply for aesthetics; however, instead of completely enclosing the school in seemingly oppressive stone, they had the remaining three sides bordered by a more appealing fence that was a continuation of the gates. The result was an intimidating, but attractive front to the public eye, portraying the respect the ostentatious school deserved coupled with an airy and tasteful boundary that didn't leave its pupils gasping for air while inside the grounds.

It was, even in Quatre's eyes, a seemingly unlikely group. How they all got along, he wasn't completely sure, a thought he attributed also to the gundam pilots. At the moment it was Maria and Jaime making most of the noise, punctuated every now and then by Todd's need to be included and Thomas' soft observations.

As he walked up to his group of friends he realized that after they had successfully gotten his attention, the girls had begun discussing their ever preferred topic. Gossip. Eric rolled his eyes as he met the Arab's gaze and the former gundam pilot heard Thomas chuckle softly as he witnessed the exchange. Quatre smiled again. A normal day in high school seemed to be awaiting him. It was nice, thought Quatre, to be a normal high school student. It was really, quite nice.

* * *

The weather was cool with a gentle breeze playing with her sandy blonde hair. Relena Darlian closed her eyes to the sun, for a brief moment she was able to forget that the peaceful world she had worked so hard to achieve was on the brink of collapse. Her dream was once again dangling on a precipice while still in its infancy. The Earth Sphere Unified Nation was only two years old and only a year had passed since it had survived the Mariemaia incident.

Now, suddenly it seemed a fairly large portion of the population on Earth was unhappy with the way things were. It was a slippery slope. The ESUN hadn't been able to keep the rebellious former nations from branching off for fear of bloodshed and it seemed as if peaceful discussion wasn't fairing any better. The Republic of Eurussia was unrelenting in their demand for armaments. Relena knew that openly allowing such a thing to happen would simply be asking for another war considering the Republic's belligerent attitude.

She simply couldn't let that happen.

But for an instant, she could pretend her problems didn't exist. At least, until she opened her eyes anyway. The Vice Foreign Minister looked up at the conference building. Most of the diplomatic council members from around the ESUN had arrived here on a colony in the L3 cluster to discuss the growing issue regarding the new Republic. To be honest, she wasn't sure if they were going to be able to do much. The Republic seemed intent on ignoring the ESUN and if the fledgling nation did indeed have mobile suites as they now claimed, Relena was sure they would be gunning for a fight.

Taking a deep breath the young diplomat squared her shoulders and raised her chin defiantly before she entered the building, headed up the elevator and joined her fellow diplomats. Even if her efforts failed and the world was pulled into war once again she was going to do her damnedest to keep it from happening.

* * *

Mikhail Castonev strolled lazily along the large stone pathway that wound its way through his estate's large garden; his hard soled black knee high boots clicking distinctly as he went. The garden was filled with an assortment of Azaleas, Roses, Carnations, Lilies and Chamomiles, as well as natural shrubs and small trees; it was his personal Eden on Earth. He came here too little these days. Lately he had been so busy meeting with his advisors, military staff, other diplomats from other areas of the newly formed Republic of Eurussia, and even occasionally, engaging in discussions with representatives from the Earth Sphere Unified Nation that a casual stroll about his haven was long over due.

Castonev had been one of the instrumental founders of the Republic. The Russian had been raised in a very traditional old-country style family. He firmly believed that Mother Russia was a great super power of a country and that it should remain so. As a young man Castonev enlisted as a soldier and had steadily made his way up the chain of command. The military and political ladder eventually had combined, bringing the man close to political power over his beloved country. Until the Colonial War of 195 began in earnest. Things hadn't gone his way since. Castonev had never been quite content with the way the Colonial War in 195 ended. Almost immediately, he had begun implementing a plan to gain territorial control over a substantial area between what had once been Russia and Europe in order to gain personal power and secede from the ESUN.

Even throughout the Mariemaia incident, the Russian had not allowed his plans to be derailed. As much as Castonev disliked the ESUN the conniving man had breathed a sigh of relief when Mariemaia threat had been destroyed. The child's victory would not have deterred Castonev from his plans, but it would have caused him to back peddle and recalculate. Quite frankly, he wasn't that patient of a man. Now nearing his mid fifties, Castonev was determined to finally reach what he had believed to be his for so long.

Castonev paused for a moment, contemplating a patch of thorny roses. A man dressed in a dark green military style suite and tall black knee high boots, very similar to Castonev, approached at a brisk pace. Halting roughly five paces away the intruder stood casually in the former's presence. "They are waiting for you Mikhail," the stranger informed him. "Every leading diplomat within the Republic of Eurussia is seated and awaiting your decision."

"Thank you, Sergei." Castonev replied. It really had all come together fairly easily. A surprising amount of people, even in Castonev's mind, hadn't completely accepted the ESUN. Looking for somewhere to turn, some out, they had turned to him. Technically, the Republic consisted of a rather large council seat, of which he and Sergei both held positions in. The reality of the situation was that Castonev had the power and the muscle to back it up. The Republic was essentially a new face on old Mother Russia and it was he who controlled her.

The Council Seat of the Republic of Eurussia danced to his puppet strings. And it was time to start the puppet show.


	3. Chapter 3

Back to Reality

**Notes from me: **Alright, to start with, I'm sorry these next two chapters took longer than my others to get up, but they were actually beta'd. Yey!! I'd very much like to thank jeangreymullinsjr. for doing the job and the support. : ) Also, for anyone who pays attention to detail, I made Trowa two years older than the other pilots. I have no real reason for doing this other than the fact that I always thought Trowa was a bit older than the others and there is a debate on weather he was born in the year AC 180 just like the others or in AC 178. To my knowledge, the creators have not definitively stated one way or the other on the matter (but, I could very well be wrong). Either way, I'm taking some artistic liberty in the matter so don't bite my head off.

Chapter 3

Quatre Raberba Winner was in Advanced Calculus. And he was bored. Only half listening to the professor's lecture, his mind traveled lazily about in a desperate attempt to not fall asleep. The professor was a kind man in his mid-to-late forties with wire rimmed glasses and wore the same suite religiously. He loved his job and took the extra time and effort in order for his students to succeed. The blonde youth admired his dedication and genuinely liked the man. Unfortunately though, just like the stereotypical teacher, his voice simply droned on and on and on. Quatre had caught even some of his most studious 4.0 classmates nodding off on occasion.

The atmosphere in the room didn't help either. The small classroom was one of the oldest in this particular wing of the school, permeating the air with an old book and chalkboard smell. Thanks to the brilliantly azure blue sky hardly dotted with clouds, the class had unanimously elected to turn the artificial lights in the room off, allowing for a more natural study environment. The result was a slightly darker room, though still well lit, that only enhanced the sleepiness Quatre was already feeling. The windows were open, but on this side of the building the classrooms rarely caught a breeze, also adding to his discomfort.

Overall, Quatre disliked almost everything about this class and the fact that he could take the semester's final in his sleep and surely receive an excellent score yet couldn't test out of the class annoyed him considerably. Unconsciously tapping his fingers on the small, heartlessly cold metallic desk, Quatre resigned himself to watch the clock slowly tick closer and closer to his freedom.

Quatre's salvation came in the form of the school bell clamoring out in the hall. Deftly scooping up his things and unceremoniously dumping them in his bag, Quatre practically leapt out of his chair and into the hall. He hadn't been the only one either. In the mere seconds it had taken him to exit Advanced Calculus the whole hallway had become congested with bodies.

Most of the students were making their way to another class, pushing and shoving their way between open lockers, peers and every now and then, a teacher. Quatre was patient however. He was not going to another class, but to lunch period and therefore had a little more leeway time for travel. By the time he had gotten through the laboriously slow food court line Todd, Jaime, Thomas, and Suzzie were all seated at a round table situated near one of the TVs continuously looping the world news. Its focus, unsurprisingly, was the brimming conflict between the ESUN and the Republic of Eurussia.

He took a seat across from Todd and Jaime to sit in between the other two. It hadn't escaped his notice as he approached that Todd and Jaime were holding hands under the table. The blonde Arabian caught Thomas' gaze and raised a questioning eyebrow while ever so discreetly inclining his head in the pair's direction. The darker haired boy shrugged in response, giving Quatre a look that told him he really shouldn't be surprised.

"So, how was calculus?" teased Jaime, smiling as she bit into a delicious looking strawberry then breaking into delighted laughter in response to Quatre's baleful glare. "Oh, come on. He's not _that_ bad is he?" she asked.

"Yes. He is." Quatre replied in a dead pan voice. "I'm shocked I'm not catatonic out of boredom."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic Quatre. He's not really as bad as you make him sound. You're scaring the less intelligent children over there from educating themselves further," chastised Thomas as he began reading a book while he ate his sandwich.

"Gee, thanks Thomas!" Suzzie quipped in sarcastically. "Good to know that you think the rest of us are idiots." Thomas shrugged, a smirk playing across his face.

"You had Mr. Zeleski last year, Thomas. You know damn well how bad he is" argued Quatre. It was an argument everyone had heard a dozen times already and Quatre decided to change the subject. "Did anyone watch the news this morning?" he asked, half expecting the answer.

"You know we don't get up early enough to watch TV in the morning," whined Todd, finally speaking up and acting as if his classmate had just asked him if he had read the dictionary front to back. "Really, its bad enough we have to be in class at eight."

Thomas looked up sharply from his lunch, his facial features hardening into a scowl and his brows knitted together menacingly as he gave the athlete a withering look. "You should," he said angrily. "Have you ever thought that things actually happen outside of this school? Meaningful things?" Quatre leaned sideways a little, in order to get a better view of his friend. The dark haired senior just didn't get this upset about anything. Quatre knew that Thomas was just as concerned about worldly politics as he was himself, but this sort of reaction was completely unexpected from the usually reserved young man. "Get your head out of your ass Marks and take a look around! The world is tearing apart all over again, we're on the precipice of disaster and war's almost inevitable now," he spat crossly. Despite his friend's sudden ire, Quatre couldn't help but think it just like Thomas to use a word that Todd didn't know against him.

Their table was quiet for a moment and it seemed as if all the noise had faded from the room, despite the fifty plus loud, obnoxious teenagers fighting to be heard over each other. Everyone at their table looked dumbfounded at Thomas. The glare he was giving Todd promised physical injury, if not death, if his ignorant friend said something else to set him off. "Easy Thomas," said Suzzie, her eyes wide in shock at Thomas' outburst. "He's a jock. You have to understand that his brain is the size of a peanut. You can't expect him to come to any sort of meaningful conclusions on his own." Her voice was joking as she attempted to calm her visibly upset friend. It seemed to have worked. Thomas' facial features, softened. His eyebrows eased back into their normal position and his scowl had receded to a thin line, creating a less menacing visage but still showed his annoyance toward Todd.

The mood around the table had lifted ever so slightly, but for only a moment. "Are we really going to war?" asked Jaime, a faint tremble in her voice as she looked at Thomas. "Again? I mean, I don't know what I expected when the Republic announced their secession, but certainly not a war."

"Bank on it," replied Quatre darkly. All eyes turned to him. "When the Republic at least kept quiet about their possession of armaments there was a chance for both entities to try to coexist. The big problem is the Republic actually _wants_ a war by the looks of it, which is a little surprising and a little not at the same time. I would have thought they would have solidified themselves more before taking such a drastic action. The Republic is quite large and getting all of those people united can't be an easy task," explained Quatre, looking down at his plate and unsuccessfully trying to stab a little baby tomato in his salad.

"However," he continued, "it was their decision to confess to having mobile suites, which worries me. And the media wouldn't be far off the mark in venturing that they included Taurus and Aries suites. Both are common and easily capable of fighting on Earth or in space. And to make it all worse, the ESUN honestly doesn't know what to do about it. They aren't prepared for this sort of thing. No one even thought that anyone would want to secede so soon after the Mariemaia Incident. But now that it's happened they don't want to make the first attack and look like dictators to the, quite frankly, mostly ill-informed public. At the same time they can't afford to just roll over and let the Republic do whatever they want. Such a move would endanger the strength and abilities of the ESUN." Quatre closed his eyes and sighed, running a hand through his golden hair and muttered "We're practically right back where we started."

Quatre tore his gaze up from his food tray and into four pairs of eyes staring at him. The expressions facing him revealed that most of them were dumbfounded, except Thomas, who had a curious yet concerned look upon his face. The blonde could feel the other boy's emotions roll off of him. Quatre bit his lip anxiously as he realized he had divulged information on mobile suites that most civilians didn't particularly know about. No one else seemed to notice however and thankfully Thomas let the matter drop. "It does seem that way, doesn't it?" Thomas pondered out loud, still watching Quatre with a contemplative look playing about his face, as if he were trying to solve a puzzle that had just mysteriously sprouted a new piece that didn't quite fit with the rest.

"Okay," Todd said rather loudly, "Enough on scary - depressing topics." The wrestler turned toward the two girls sitting beside him, promptly ignoring Thomas and Quatre. "Did you see how short Cassidy Riley's skirt is today? I'm shocked the headmaster hasn't had her in his office yet."

Quatre shook his head in submission as he watched the others begin conversing about such mundane things. Obviously they were even less understanding of the state of the world than he had given them credit for. Thomas was right. They were on the brink of war and Quatre had to wonder. Did the people really care?

The rest of his day went by uneventfully. There was hardly any more talk of civil unrest, politics, or impending wars and, considering the state of things, that worried Quatre. It made him wonder if most people his age were blissfully ignorant to what was going on. He wasn't used to people brushing aside talk of war as if they were merely sweeping dirt under a rug. Sometimes he just wanted to slap them, shake them, or do something to make them understand the reality of the situation. Geographically, Wilmington was not all that far from the Republic of Eurussia's border and the public's oblivious behavior towards that fact only increased his concern.

His dark mood from lunch had stayed with him throughout the day, his friends finding him a downer to conversation whenever they were able to coerce a response from the brooding blonde and had eventually just left him alone. That suited him fine. Mrs. Jemison's ten page essay was not a high concern on his priority list at the moment.

By the time his final class period arrived the breeze outside had picked up and Quatre found himself looking out the window, watching the trees dance gently with the wind, his mind wandering for the second time that day. The sight put his tumultuous thoughts to ease.

His reverie was interrupted by the voice of a fellow student responding to a prompt from the professor and made him jump slightly in his seat, effectively reminding him that he probably should be paying attention. Tearing his eyes away from the trees and focusing once again on the lecture, Quatre sighed silently to himself. His effort to concentrate on class was only half hearted though and, as a result, his attention didn't last long. The youth found himself gazing, once again, absently out through the window again. This time, something interesting caught his eye.

A tall, slender youth, roughly about Quatre's age was leaning casually, arms folded across his chest, against a lime green and charcoal black ninja motorcycle that was parked just outside the closed school gates. Quatre would have recognized him even without his trademark hair that covered a good half of his expressionless face. And he was staring right at Quatre. The blonde smiled.

Normal life had just gotten a whole lot better.

The corner of his mouth turned up in an almost imperceptible grin as he caught sight of the blue eyed blonde exiting the school along with an easy three hundred others. Quatre Raberba Winner had spotted the taller ex-gundam pilot from his classroom before the bell had rung and when the doors opened, effectively setting loose a small army of pent up teenagers, Trowa easily recognized the blonde making an expected b-line for him. A smile plastered on his face. The tall youth's heart skipped a beat. He had missed that smile.

A part Trowa's brain registered a small group of classmates that had gathered in a circle on the lawn. Three young girls sprawled across the carefully manicured green, laughing and gossiping with the three boys who stood behind them. Spying their friend in the crowd moving away from them, they called out to the blonde, still smiling and laughing at something Trowa didn't catch. Quatre either ignored them or didn't hear because he just kept walking, never taking his eyes off the brown haired boy. He stopped only two steps away and Trowa was conscious of Quatre's critical eyes studying him.

Up close the difference a year had made was apparent. When the two had originally met (and even up to the end of the war with the colonies) Quatre, at first appearance outside of his mobile suite, had given the impression of a spoiled upper class child used to having things simply handed to him.

Now, however, he looked totally different. The blonde was no longer cherubic in appearance, but leaner and stronger. His facial features had slimmed, becoming more defined and mature. Trowa was sure the rest of him had done the same as well. The blonde was also a good deal taller than he had been. His posture, which had always given away his high class upbringing, had an element of casual confidence to it.

For all the changes in his physical appearance, he was still the same Quatre. Those exquisite blue eyes sparkled just as brightly as they always had and his smile was even more welcoming than he remembered. Trowa's heart skipped a beat and he fought to keep his breathing normal, his face expressionless. Quatre had always held a power over him, but he hadn't expected reuniting with the blonde to have this strong of an affect on him. He simply didn't know how to handle it, so for the time being he kept his feelings to himself.

Quatre stared up into the deep green eyes currently sizing him up. The young aristocrat knew he was easy on the eyes (mostly because Maria wouldn't let him forget the fact, much to his embarrassment) but usually didn't give much thought to how he looked amongst his peers. However, under Trowa's scrutinizing assessment, Quatre feared himself rather inadequate. His friend, on the other hand, was just as attractive as ever. The blonde couldn't help himself as his eyes took his friend in.

Trowa was still taller than Quatre, probably getting close to six feet by the blonde's estimation, and still muscularly slender and willowy in appearance. He was dressed, as always, in a forest green turtle neck sweater and jeans, his casual stance against the bike belied his constantly alert nature. The tall Latin still had the same eyes, a deep green that expressed more emotion than the rest of his body combined. His hair, though still the same brown and worn in the exact same way, sported subtle streaks of a lighter caramel brown. Most likely a result of spending so much more time outside in the sun on the Earth working at the circus rather than staying predominantly inside large military bases and fighting in mobile suites.

Different, yet the same. A thought no doubt shared by the other, he was sure. Quatre's eyes glittered in mirth as he brought his eyes back up to Trowa's, which currently showed no other emotion besides calm interest. It was Trowa who spoke first. "You got taller," he said simply. A hint of a grin pulled at the corner of his mouth.

Quatre couldn't help but laugh. "Hello, Trowa" he replied pleasantly. "It's been almost a year and that's the best you can do?" The question held a playful tease to it and Trowa only grinned in response. The brunette uncrossed his arms, nonchalantly holding a helmet that had been hidden behind his back out toward the smaller blonde from his left hand. Quatre smiled again, he just couldn't help it around Trowa, taking the helmet enthusiastically.

Trowa stood up fully and positioned himself on the bike as Quatre donned the protective equipment. "Your friends seem a little upset," he noted over the noise as the engine roared to life, and looking at the obviously stunned group of six. Quatre glanced over to his clique. Their shocked expressions almost made him laugh.

"They'll live," came the response in his ear, barely loud enough to be heard over the motorbike. Smiling in earnest now, Trowa revved up the bike just for show before pulling away from the sidewalk and taking off into town.


	4. Chapter 4

Back to Reality

Chapter 4

Having left the bike to sit in a parking lot a while back, the two friends strolled casually through the narrow streets of town content for the moment to walk in silence. Quatre had taken off his blazer and tie, disrespectfully stuffing them into his school bag which now bulged in protest. The Arabian had also released the top button on his shirt, loosening the collar, presenting a much more casual appearance.

Trowa, who had been taking in the small city's picturesque views, stole a glance at his friend. Hands in his pockets and seeming to be completely at ease, the blonde looked all the part of a well dressed upper class youth taking a stroll. He wasn't sure if he'd pick red as Quatre's best color though, he thought absently.

Feeling eyes boring into him, Quatre looked up and met Trowa's eyes with his own. The taller youth looked like he wanted to say something. "What is it Trowa?" he asked curiously, wondering what was going on inside that head of his. Trowa just looked forward again, focusing on some distant object ahead of them.

"Nothing," was all the reply he was given. Quatre sighed. I guess time hasn't changed us too much, Quatre thought with slight bitterness. He had hoped time with his adoptive sister, Catherine, would have coerced Trowa into being a slightly more social individual. As of yet his hope seemed to have been in vain. His silent nature made communicating frustratingly difficult at times, even for the empathic Quatre.

The blonde smiled. Trowa wouldn't be able to evade his questions forever. A thought crossed his mind. "Hey Trowa," he said excitedly, delighting in the cautious look the taller ex-pilot gave him, the sudden change in the former gundam pilot throwing him off balance. "Let's grab a drink."

"A drink?" asked Trowa skeptically. He paused briefly, wondering what the legal drinking age was here.

"Yes, a drink." Quatre turned around, walking backwards. "I know a nice little place. You'll like it," he told him before turning back around and lead the way. Trowa said nothing as he followed the blonde.

Roughly twenty minutes later the two were sitting inside a quaint little café. Situated on one of the many hill crests within the city, it had an almost perfect view of the busy harbor. Built from natural light colored stone over fifty years ago, the age of the place gave it a nice authentic feel to it. Inside were numerous tables and chairs made out of wrought iron. Everything about the furniture was slender and streamlined. The look was mirrored in the tables, each with exquisitely hand crafted slate and marble tops with the most beautiful and unique patterns. No two tables were the same, adding to the richness of the place.

Having paid for their drinks, they had chosen a secluded table in the corner beside the large front window. Tall, silent Trowa took the seat with his back against the wall, giving him a clear view of the whole café and out into the street.

Quatre was not nearly as paranoid as his friend and sat comfortably with his back to the door. The blonde had ordered a cup of tea while Trowa had opted for simple black coffee. Trowa always drank the stuff straight. Quatre couldn't keep himself from crinkling his nose when the taller boy had ordered it. "So when did the circus get into town? I haven't seen any signs that there was even one around here," he inquired, watching his friend over his tea cup.

"Only a couple of hours before I picked you up," replied Trowa evenly as he sipped slowly at his steaming mug. The shocked expression on the smaller youth's face had Trowa smiling on the inside, though he kept his visage indifferent. He knew Quatre hadn't expected that answer. Quatre's facial expression changed from one of surprise to one of confusion.

"You wouldn't be able to completely set up camp in that time frame. How did you manage to come see me?"

"We already knew you lived nearby. We're bound to be pretty busy in the first few days we're here and the chances of me getting away long enough to see you would have been slim. So, Catherine and the manager let me skate on helping setting things up." Trowa explained with a shrug.

Quatre was dumbfounded, to say the least. The blonde had always believed that Trowa's self-proclaimed sister hated him for two very good reasons. The first being Quatre's causing Trowa a serious bout of amnesia resulting from a battle between himself, Trowa, and Heero. The second being that, after finding Trowa in such a compromised state, Quatre had been the reason the confused pilot had returned to fighting. If he was truly honest with himself, Quatre supported Catherine's dislike of him and didn't begrudge her for it one bit. The protective young women had never flat out stated any like or dislike toward the blonde, but Quatre felt it. He knew it was there and for her to accept Trowa's continued close friendship with him enough to go out of her way for them to spend time together…well, Quatre gave her props for that.

Apparently his train of thought was evident on his face because Trowa was giving him a stern look, his coffee mug seemingly forgotten. Quatre promptly set his empty tea cup down, facing the other boy with as close to a guiltless expression as possible.

"Quatre, you need to stop blaming yourself," admonished Trowa. "It wasn't your fault. Let it go."

Reclining back in his chair and stretching out his legs, he gazed out through the large window, watching the locals meander on past to avoid Trowa's stare. He shrugged dismissively. "I don't think I ever will Trowa," he confessed. "And I'm not all that quick to put the blame wholly on the Zero System as everyone else seems to be. The colonies had just abandoned us, Father was killed by the very same people I was trying to protect, and Iria died as a result of the whole thing. Any psychologist would tell you a psychotic break would have been likely," Quatre explained.

"Even if that were the case, there was mitigating circumstances and therefore, you are not responsible," Trowa stated matter-of-factly that left no room for continued discussion.

Quatre glanced over at Trowa, whose eyes glinted victory. A smile tugged at the corner of the blonde's mouth. "Nice try. I'll give you an A for effort, but only a C in originality. I kinda handed you the ammunition for that one." Trowa inclined his head slightly and Quatre turned the discussion onto much lighter matters.

The pair relaxed at that café for a couple of hours, discussing a multitude of things ranging from what they had done since the Mariemaia incident and what news they had received about what the others were up to, then to what they were doing now and random stories about their lives in between.

After they left, the Arab pulled his fellow former gundam pilot the local art gallery. 'You'll enjoy it Trowa" he assured the reticent young man.

Quatre had been right.

Trowa was immediately captivated by the stunning work it contained and spent a good amount of time in the contemporary department. Quatre had been surprised by the other's fascination in the obscure paintings. Trowa brought the blonde's attention to a particularly confusing piece of work. Harsh streaks of a dozen different colors filled the canvas, splashed randomly about. The piece made no sense to the young aristocrat. The blonde looked over at Trowa, who seemed to have a better grasp of the piece by the look on his face.

"What do you make of it?" he asked the taller youth.

"You can't tell?" asked Trowa, looking down at his friend with a stoic expression on his face. Quatre merely looked at him quizzically. "It looks a lot like an elephant playing water polo." Something like that from the predominantly serious Trowa was just too much and the blonde burst out laughing, startling many of the more conservative art enthusiasts. Quatre put a hand on Trowa's arm to steady himself and half turned away, trying to catch his breath in between laughs.

Trowa's stomach fluttered when Quatre grabbed his arm. The unexpected contact caused a multitude of emotions to swirl inside him: love, fear, pain, hope, uncertainty. He wasn't used to feeling this way. He was used to being in control, always in control. These novel feelings that blonde brought about did not facilitate control. Sometimes when Quatre touched him in a certain way, when the blonde looked at him just right, and especially when he said his name softly…Oh, God when Quatre said his name. In those moments, he wasn't in control. Quite the opposite and, though he wouldn't admit it, it scared him. Trowa only knew of one way to keep control. The brunette forcefully pushed aside his emotions. He pushed them far enough away that they could be ignored, for a while at least.

When Quatre turned back to Trowa, still leaning on him for balance, he saw only a slight twinkle of laughter in his eyes. Just a moment ago he had looked as he was actually about to laugh. The sudden change confused the blonde. Even with Trowa being on the silent side, he didn't understand what could have caused the other boy to change moods so quickly. It was then that he noticed the appalled and angry expressions being sent their way from the other patrons occupying the room. Quatre smiled, hoping it would chase away his discomfort. "Come on. Let's get out of here before we get stoned to death," he said as he tugged on Trowa's arm.

They ate an uneventful dinner together at a nice Italian restaurant before the blonde; cheerful once again, decided to take the tall brunette to the pier carnival.

Already it was near dusk by the time they were walking along the harbor pier that hosted a small carnival year round. The bright lights were on, crazy carnival noises and local radio broadcasts carried across the pier from many of the attractions. The two walked in between rows of game tents while avoiding crashing into children, when they could, as the little urchins ran headlong through the crowd. Trowa's sudden change in behavior seemed to have been something of a dream, like it had never happened, and Quatre was munching contentedly on a bag of cotton candy (it was his second) while Trowa held a large stuffed panda bear that he'd won at a shooting booth. Trowa couldn't help but smile at Quatre's love for sweats. "You have such a sweat tooth." He commented casually, glancing down at smaller youth.

The blonde smiled and shrugged, pulling out a small handful of the fluffy pink stuff. "I've got a good dentist," he replied off-handedly. His quip answer provoked a deep chuckle from the tall acrobat, causing Quatre to falter a step. The sound almost made him melt. He recovered quickly though and Trowa didn't seem to notice.

Relief washed over the young multi-millionaire. He could handle executives and siblings hounding him about WEI on top of his school work, during exams no less, but he wasn't sure he could handle Trowa's reaction to Quatre spilling his guts about his feelings toward him. Especially when the blonde got the impression that Trowa wasn't exactly batting for his team, so to speak.

As much as Quatre was attracted to his former comrade in arms, he was too afraid of ruining their friendship to say anything. The last thing he wanted was to scare off the one person he wanted to get closest to for something that might not even work. Trowa's voice cut sharply into Quatre's internal dilemma. "Quatre, want to go take the ferry around the harbor?" The taller boy was looking at him expectantly and Quatre figured it hadn't been the first time he'd been asked that question.

"Oh, yeah…sure," replied the blonde as he hurriedly finished the last of the cotton candy, throwing the bag away as they stepped onto the ferry boat. The crowd was fairly large already and the air inside the enclosed area of the boat was too stifling, so Trowa lead the way out onto the open deck. They stopped near the railing, Quatre allowing his school bag to drop to the floor unceremoniously at his feet, leaning with his forearms on the rail. He looked into the gloomy black waves of the water as they pulled away from the dock, allowing them to take his thoughts with them.

Trowa stood, straight and erect with his hands in his pockets, taking in the colorful lights of the harbor. His eyes soon drifted over to the blonde by his side only a few feet away. He couldn't help but enjoy the view. Quatre was turning into a very naturally attractive young man. He felt the urge to run his hand through that beautiful golden blonde hair, gently trail his fingers down Quatre's neck, whisper sweat nothings in his ear while his hands slipped down across his back sending ripples of pleasure across the younger boy's body, and lower to his waist, and then continuing even lower…

Trowa was startled, as much as the usually impassive ex-gundam pilot could be anyway, out of his less than innocent thoughts about his friend by a question spoken so softly he almost didn't catch it. "When will you leave?" asked the blonde, looking up at Trowa, searching for an answer he knew wouldn't be there.

The brunette shrugged, not picking up on the hidden meaning underneath the simple question. "A week, maybe longer if we do well enough." He watched as Quatre casually turned around, leaning his back against the rail, stuffing his hands in his pockets and gazing up at the few stars that weren't obscured by the bright lights of the city. The blonde closed his eyes and sighed. "Not long enough is it?" he asked.

Quatre shook his head. "It wouldn't be nearly so bad, you know, if you would write or call or…something, every once in a while," Quatre accused with a bit more vehemence than he had intended. "Duo and Wufei at least contact me once in a while and I talk to Relena enough to know what Heero's up to...As much as you're allowed to know what he's up to anyway. But I don't hear a word from you until you show up out of the blue. Not one, Trowa." Quatre looked over his shoulder to meet Trowa's eyes with his own. "What's up with that? I thought we were closer than that," he finished quietly, fighting desperately to keep the tears from welling up in his eyes and the pathetic quiver out of his voice. He was suddenly very angry with Trowa and also very hurt, but he didn't want to collapse into a blubbering mess in front of the guy.

Trowa didn't react, just met Quatre's gaze emotionlessly. The brunette saw the tears in his eyes threatening to get the better of the little blonde and the knowledge that he was the cause pained him. He knew he owed Quatre a better explanation than he could give. There wasn't any good reason Trowa was willing to admit to that kept him from making contact with the blonde up until today, so he kept silent. He saw a flash of anger in those vibrant blue eyes, and then an expression of defeat as Quatre dropped his head to stare dejectedly at the deck.

The Arab blinked the tears away and waited until he trusted his voice before changing the subject. "How'd you find me anyway?" he asked curiously. Any hint of anger or pain was gone from his voice, replaced by faint curiosity. "I mean, it's not exactly like I announced what school I was attending and Wilmington has a very strict code on privacy for exactly that reason".

"I hacked into all of the private schools' databases in the surrounding area until I found you," Trowa replied nonchalantly, looking back out across the water. "It's not like it was hard" he added as an afterthought.

In spite of his annoyance of Trowa's lack of interest in keeping in contact with him, Quatre chuckled at his answer. He should have guessed that that was how he had done it. Just because they didn't necessarily _have_ to hack into places anymore didn't mean that they still _couldn't_. "Old habits, I suppose" commented the blonde, looking back up at the sky. The stars made him think of the colonies, which in turn, made him think about the ESUN, followed closely by thoughts of the Republic. "We're going to war again Trowa," he said with a painful finality in his tone.

"Its highly likely, yes," replied the taller brunette. He turned to face Quatre fully and moved closer to the blonde. The change in personal space brought Quatre's attention from the sky back to Trowa, who was now only inches from him. He felt his throat constrict and it took all of his willpower not to look away from the determined look that he found in his eyes. "There is a chance though, that the Republic has merely taken up mobile suites because they feel threatened by the ESUN, optimistically speaking anyway. And a large part of me wants to believe that," Trowa continued. "But if the Republic does go to war against the ESUN, I'm ready to fight again. I have no doubt that Relena will ask us for help if it comes to that. But until she does or the Republic declares war, whichever comes first, I'll stay with the circus. I'm not yet willing to leave Cathy for a maybe."

Quatre stared into Trowa's eyes for a moment before looking back over his shoulder at the harbor dock with all its radiant lights edging closer as the ferry boat made its slow trek back to port. "It's a shame," he thought out loud. "I had just gotten used to being a normal high school student. It was nice."

Trowa could see the conflicting feelings raging within his friend. Out of all the pilots, Quatre was one of two who had previously held a relatively normal lifestyle, even if it hadn't exactly been all happy days and sunshine. The war between Earth and the colonies in which he had so actively participated in, the constant conflict with and eventual death of his pacifist father followed immediately by the death of his sister, and the overall baggage one accumulates during a war had changed him significantly. Hardly normal for a fifteen year old, but in spite of such traumatic events he had forged a new life as a civilian quite successfully. Something none of the others had managed to accomplish. And now, thanks to this new Republic of Eurussia, it was all getting yanked away because Quatre wasn't the type of person to stand aside and watch everything he had worked to achieve get destroyed.

Trowa couldn't imagine how it must feel to the kind hearted seventeen year old. Trowa had never been an overly expressive individual and his upbringing amongst mercenaries didn't exactly promote sensitivity. But he could see the confusion, fear, anger and determination in his friend's eyes. At that moment, all he wanted to do was comfort him. Let him know that despite whatever happened in the future everything would be okay.

Before he realized what he was doing, he had brought a curled index finger underneath Quatre's chin, gently forcing the blonde to look him in the eyes. "Quatre"

Quatre's breath hitched as Trowa tenderly coerced him to meet his gaze. Butterflies made themselves known in his stomach, he felt his heart pound hard against his chest and somewhere in the back of his head he prayed that Trowa couldn't feel his pulse. Quatre was powerless to do anything other than stare up into those wonderful green eyes. He was also becoming increasingly more aware of how close they were to each other. Just one more step and their bodies would touch.

"Trowa…I" Quatre started as he made to move closer. The intimacy was lost however when, just as Quatre had moved toward the other pilot, his cell phone rang. Buzzing obnoxiously in his back pocket, Quatre cursed under his breath as he reached to silence the thing. At the same time, he was painfully aware that Trowa had promptly withdrawn his hand, which had felt so comforting to the blonde, and had backed away a few paces. Returning to his original position, Trowa watched emotionlessly as Quatre fished the offending gadget out of his pocket. Casting the stoic young man a look of apology at the intrusion, he noticed the caller was Rashid.

Cursing again, a little louder this time, Quatre pressed the answer button.


	5. Chapter 5

Back to Reality

**Notes from Me**: It seems as if my lovely (and I say that in all seriousness) beta seems to have taken a hiatus and in order to keep you readers happy I am posting this chapter and, most likely, the next unbeta'd. Be patient with me, Chapter 7 is taking longer than I have expected…I blame Quatre for this. : p Also, I am going through a life change right now and hoping to be moving roughly four states away all the way over onto the East Coast relatively shortly, probably a month or two. If everything comes through, I will have to deal with packing and moving and unpacking etc. So, bear with me. This story will not be forgotten, even if it takes a little while. As always, read and reply please. Everything helps. Encouragement as well as constructive criticism.

Chapter 5

Trowa Barton watched, quite amused, while the blonde aristocrat winced outwardly as he answered the phone, speaking rather reluctantly. "Hello." Trowa could hear the booming voice of Rashid Kurama even from where he was standing, though he couldn't quite make out any specific words. The giant of a man had the ultimate respect from the former pilot of gundam Heavyarms. The Arab had led a small group of forty Middle Eastern guerrilla mobile suite pilots that frequently aided and protected Quatre (referring to him as 'Master Quatre') and his gundam Sandrock during the war between the Earth and the colonies. The two had some previous history together and Rashid had always been rather protective toward the kind hearted blonde. Apparently, he was still just as protective.

"I'm with Trowa," Quatre explained. He could tell Rashid was angry. He didn't yell. No. Worse than that, his advisor and friend had a quiet, simmering, disappointed type of anger. The palpable kind of anger that makes you bow your head in shame because you knew better from the start, yet you did it anyway. His voice, though never raised, roiled with anger and the blonde Arabian felt it come of the big man like the first waves before a tsunami. He was in trouble when he got home. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "He abducted me from school. Said he had a puppy in his nondescript black van. I went rather too willingly" he told the big man, hoping a little humor might smooth things out a bit. It usually worked.

No dice. Rashid's admonishing voice became slightly brusquer and Quatre winced again. Oh man, he was really going to be in for it. And Rashid's lectures always made him feel like crap afterward too. "Yeah…I'm on the ferry boat right now, but we're about to dock…yeah…I will. Bye."

The click signifying an end to the call was loud, seeming to be just as angry as the disembodied voice had been. "Not good?" ventured Trowa. Quatre looked up at the taller youth, head still bowed slightly as he stared absently at the phone.

"No. Not good," responded the blonde. He sighed. Shit.

"Trying to be smart probably didn't help," Trowa told him, secretly enjoying the annoyed look his blue eyed friend was giving him. "And when did I become a kidnapper, exactly?"

Quatre smiled with a devilish look on his face. "When you picked me up in that nondescript black van," he shot back. Trowa chuckled again, causing the young Arab's knees to go weak. He was glad the ferry wasn't finished docking yet. Quatre sighed again and ran a hand through his silky platinum blonde hair. "I should have remembered to call. It is getting rather late too."

Shortly after Rashid's call the boat had finished docking and people had begun to depart. Trowa stepped forward a few paces then halted, half turning to face the blonde. Quatre picked up his school bag, placing the long shoulder strap on his left as he moved to follow the taller youth. "So, what's up with Rashid?" Trowa asked as they exited the ferry and walked away from the carnival pier. "I figured you would be living with one of your relatives."

Quatre shrugged. "I was, but they were all busy with their lives. Only about eight of my sisters actually work with WEI. Most of them have branched out to do their own thing. They have families of their own and, to be honest, it would have been like moving in with a stranger. I have nieces and nephews only a few years younger than me. It would have been weird and uncomfortable," he explained. "Rashid didn't have anyone to go home to after the war. He has no wife or children, so it was mutually agreed that he would be my legal guardian. I'm shocked you didn't notice that when you hacked the school's computers, Trowa. You're slipping."

Trowa grinned at the jibe but didn't rise to the bait. The living arrangement made sense when Quatre put things in perspective. It was odd to him though, that Rashid wouldn't have a family. He'd pegged the guy to have a large family with five or more kids running around. He said as much to Quatre, causing the blonde to laugh. "I thought so too, actually. He does have a sister-in-law though with a niece that we go and visit every so often," he replied.

Quatre noticed a cab parked on the side of the road and moved toward it, Trowa trailing close behind. It was fully dark and even though Quatre seemed completely at ease walking the dark streets at night, Trowa kept a watchful eye out for any potential threats. The two youths climbed into the vehicle, Quatre instructing the driver to drop them off at the parking garage where they had left the bike. The blonde slouched into the scratchy fabric that made up his seat, leaning his head back against the head rest. He tended to avoid cabs when he could. They were never all that comfortable. And this one is no exception, he thought miserably as the vehicle jarred this way and that through the twisting streets.

He looked over at Trowa. The brunette was sitting back in his seat comfortably (Quatre didn't quite know how) with one leg crossed over the other, and was currently gazing at the sights of the city as they flew past. The blonde turned his gaze to the city as well, sighing imperceptibly.

Damn Rashid and his timing. They had been so close. So very close and Quatre thought he had felt something between them. The empath wasn't quite sure what that feeling was, it had been too faint to make out, but there had definitely been _something_ there. And then it had disappeared so suddenly when his phone interrupted them. It made him wonder if there had really been anything there in the first place or if he had simply imagined it.

Quatre really didn't want Trowa to leave. In the next few days he would be too busy to visit and the circus' presence wouldn't last in Wilmington for long. He pondered what he could do to get his friends to see the circus more than once for a while before giving up the idea.

Before he knew it, the cab had parked at the garage. Quatre quickly paid the cabby and followed Trowa over to the bike, silently donning the helmet Trowa handed him. The blonde noticed that the ninja motorcycle's digital clock pegged the time to be twenty till ten. Rashid just might kill me, he thought sullenly as the slender acrobat revved the bike to life and sped off.

It bike's clock had just turned 20:07 as Trowa eased the bike into the driveway. The lanky teen killed the throttle and waited as his passenger disembarked. The blonde pulled off the helmet, silently giving it back to the brunette. The helmet had disheveled his hair about and Quatre self consciously attempted to smooth it out, but soon gave up the lost cause. Trowa couldn't help but smile at the bed head look his friend was now sporting.

The two stared at each other silently for a moment. Quatre had returned his hands in his pockets. "Don't leave without saying good bye, alright?" he asked the taller youth. Trowa nodded and Quatre's memory flashed back to a similar scene. Only it wasn't between him and Trowa, but Heero and Relena. Shortly after returning to Earth, Quatre and Heero had taken refuge in Relena's Sanq Kingdome. Before an impending battle ensued Relena had made Heero promise not to leave without saying good bye to her. Heero had promptly broken that promise. Quatre held a bit more faith in Trowa.

The brunette turned the key in the ignition and drove off into the dark streets of Wilmington. Quatre sighed and looked at his current home, dreading his inescapable fate. Walking up to the door, he took a deep breath before pushing the door open and entered.

An intimidating bear of a man stood in the entranceway, arms crossed over his chest. Rashid Kurama was a tall, strong, muscular man with a very neatly trimmed beard. Dressed in his usual cornflower blue shirt, dark blue vest, and white baggy harem-style pants, the veteran soldier looked as if he should be in the desert somewhere rather than standing in Quatre's European home.

Quatre felt his cheeks redden slightly under the man's intense scrutiny. "I should have called, I'm sorry," the he apologized for the second time.

"Yes, you should," came the strict, unwavering answer. After a moment of holding his charge's eyes with his own, the large Arabian's facial features softened. "Did you have a good time?" he asked, curiously.

Quatre couldn't keep a small smile from creeping across his face. "For the most part, yes," he replied as he moved to ascend the stairs leading to his bedroom.

"How long is he staying?"

Quatre stopped mid stride, halfway up the stairs. He looked down at Rashid, who had a knowing smile on his face. The big man most always seemed to know what he was thinking. "I don't know," he told him before hurrying off to his bedroom, closing the door gently behind him.

Rashid felt his heart drop slightly at the hurt look the young blonde had given him before disappearing into his room. Ah, the heartache of young love, he thought as he walked into the living room and turned on the news, hoping the young Winner heir's heart wouldn't be crushed too badly.

* * *

Mikhail Castonev watched a mobile suite demonstration his forces were performing from behind a large glass window. The military compound he was currently visiting was only one of four that he controlled. This base, Suvid, was the largest, hosting three personal barracks that housed soldiers, two separate factories (located on exact opposite ends of the compound), a large test field, and one very large office base.

It was his crown jewel and currently held the vanguard that would go up against the ESUN. The other four bases were much smaller, but heavily defended. The sheer number of mobile suites he had been able to salvage and build right under the Preventers' noses had been more than he had anticipated. The Russian was supremely confident that they could be able to take the rest of former Europe and Asia. And with that much power under him, he would be able to stand against the ESU and barter goods and natural resources, effectively making him a very rich, powerful man.

Castonev called one of his generals to him. The man, twenty years Castonev's junior, hurried over to his commander. "Yes, sir," he asked.

"General, I do believe we are ready to make our move," he told the younger man. "Assemble all of my generals on this base in my conference room. Also, send word to the other compounds that I want them to assemble as well. I will converse with those facilities by conference linked vid screens. Have everything ready by o seven hundred tomorrow. I will speak to them then," he ordered, not even bother to look at his subordinate.

Castonev heard the man's heels click together smartly and acknowledge his orders before walking briskly out of the room. The Russian smiled. Tomorrow, everything would change.

* * *

The base was a flurry of activity as Preventers Officers Sally Po and Chang Wufei watched from a careful distance, hidden by dense trees, shrubs, and large rocky outcroppings. The terrain here hadn't been easy to traverse, especially when speed and secrecy were high priorities. But the two had arrived yesterday morning, at what seemed to be the perfect time.

Alternating between resting and watching the base through powerful binoculars, the duo had been able to decipher that this base, in regards to the others, was the largest and most highly defended. Also, the activity had stepped up to a buzzing frenzy throughout the day. Mobile Suites had arrived, swelling their numbers to close to ninety five hundred at this location alone. The others contained maybe half that the three other facilities. There preparations were not defensive, but offensive. It seemed as if they were preparing for an impending battle, which obviously meant that the ESUN was about to be attacked.

Now, as dusk settled over their small campsite, the blonde haired, blue eyes Chinese woman looked over at her partner, who was busy packing up their scant supplies. They needed to get out of enemy territory and warn Lady Une before the Republic struck, giving the ESUN some chance to defend themselves. The main question at this point was _when_ would it happen? Would they attempt one more conversation with ESUN politicians or would they simply strike without warning? Sally certainly hopped it was the former.

"What do you think Wufei," she asked, looking back over her shoulder in the direction of the military compound, as she shouldered the small pack the teenager had given her. "Warning or no warning?"

Wufei threw his pack across his back and looked back at Sally, who had turned around once again to face him. "They'll probably attack without warning. We know they'll attack but not when. It gives them an advantage. By the time the Preventers realize what's going on and get organized, we'll have suffered a heavy blow. Home field advantage would be lost and without the gundams to take on the immediate threat…" Wufei trailed off as the pair began their trek back to their hidden aircraft.

Sally knew where his train of thought was going and, though she didn't like it, agreed about its accuracy. If they couldn't get the word to Lady Une and the ESUN before the Republic struck and the gundams came into the game too late, they'd be screwed.

* * *

The violent sounds of battle were over. Men and women alike screaming in agony, calling for their loved ones in their last dying breaths, cursing the enemy that had brought about their end. Twisted metal, wreckage from hundreds of mobile suites, littered the black empty void of space. What was left of their pilots floated grotesquely about the quiet emptiness.

No one had survived. Everyone was dead.

He was alone. He screamed. Screamed for the loss of lives, hundreds of souls wrenched so cruelly from their frail human bodies. He screamed for his loneliness.

No one heard him. There was no response.

Time seemed both non existent and eternal. Perhaps time had even stopped. He didn't know. He wandered mindlessly through space. Everywhere he went he saw destruction amidst the vast nothingness that was outer space. Even the stars seemed less bright, dimmed in a silent lament to the fallen.

A piece of his mind wondered if he was in fact dead himself, his fractured soul condemned to wander alone for eternity. Or perhaps he was Death itself, gazing upon the fruition of his labor.

Yes, that was it. He remembered now.

War was raging. Everything was being destroyed in the process. Nothing had been spared in the ferocious battle. Their precious mother Earth was dying as a result of their squabbles and space was its graveyard. Petulant humans were never satisfied, always finding some new excuse to kill each other, glorifying in the deaths of the weak. He had joined the fight, believing in his cause and that that cause was pure and true.

At least, that's what he had thought before he realized the truth. Ah, truth. The truth was always painful. The truth he had discovered was that humans would never stop fighting. In reality, they were no better than the animals they caged. Only those animals didn't have the power to destroy the hand that fed them. For their own sake and for that of Earth and Space, Death had to take them.

And that's exactly what he had done.

Duo Maxwell bolted upright into a sitting position, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. A cold sweat had him shivering despite the many blankets that covered his body, which now hung limp about his waist.

He glanced over at the silent alarm clock that sat plainly on the small night stand beside his bed. 5:38 am. The brown haired pilot, sighed, closing his cobalt blue eyes to the world. What a nightmare, he thought as he clasped his arms above his head and stretched. He yawned before looking back at the clock. 5:39. No point in attempting to go back to sleep, he thought with slight irritation. He had to get up in twenty minutes anyway.

Duo dragged himself out of bed and walked through the hallway, eventually coming to a door at the end. Gently opening the door, he peeked in. Hilde Schbeiker was sleeping peacefully, sprawled rather attractively Duo noticed, across her full size bed. He breathed a silent sigh of relief as he closed the door and headed down stairs. At least he hadn't woken her up. She worried about the long haired ex-gundam pilot when he had nightmares.

Starting the coffee machine, Duo made himself some toast for breakfast. Looking out the window he noticed the lights in the colony were slowly beginning to brighten, rising its inhabitants to a new day.

The god of death shuddered at what the day might bring. Something told him it wouldn't be anything good.


	6. Chapter 6

Back to Reality

Chapter 6

Quatre groaned as the alarm clock sounded in his ear. Damned thing. It had just interrupted a rather steamy dream he had been having, involving a certain clown. An arm extended from underneath the blankets, groping around sightlessly until finally coming in contact with its target and, once dealt with, slowly retreated back into the warm downy depths.

The young Winner heir drifted back to his fantasy.

After roughly half an hour without hearing any sort of noise coming from what should have been a noisy teenager, Rashid pulled himself out of bed and plodded groggily toward his young master's room. Quatre rarely slept in, but when he did, he _really_ slept in.

The burly man gently pushed open the door, revealing that Quatre was, indeed, still curled up in bed. A small tuft of yellow was the only visible aspect of the boy. Rashid walked over to the side of the bed, leaning down with his hands into the soft mattress. "Wake up, Master Quatre or you'll be late for school," he informed the sleeping mass.

The quilted heap rustled underneath him briefly before a single crystal blue eye glared at him none too kindly. "You're already going to have to run to catch the tram." Realization flooded the brilliant orb and in an instant Quatre was sitting up in bed, blinking away the sleep from his eyes and staring in bewilderment at the clock on his night stand. The sudden movement forced Rashid to step quickly back in order to avoid getting knocked over.

"I slept in?" he asked in surprise, running a hand thoughtfully through his mess of hair. He was such a bed head in the morning. Oh, yeah…he thought as he remembered. A slight pink tinted his face. Rashid, it seemed, was not awake enough to either notice or care.

"Apparently," replied the big man, turning around and trudging out the door. "I'm going back to bed". Quatre forced down a laugh as the man exited his room. Rashid was in a good mood this morning. He usually got pretty cranky when he was forced to wake the blonde if he over slept.

The aristocrat was through the shower, dressed and ready to go in record time. He was forced to grab only an apple for breakfast to eat on the tram. His hair was still damp as he sprinted out the door.

He arrived at Wilmington Academy, much to his own surprise, on time. The blonde was still catching his breath as he approached his group of friends. Maria was the first to notice his slightly harried appearance. "Sleep in?" came the morning greeting. It was more of a statement than a question. Quatre shrugged.

"It happens sometimes."

"Ditching us is something new though entirely," accused Todd acidly. The look on the guy's face was malevolent. Quatre was taken aback.

"Well, you've obviously survived the experience," he replied coldly, giving Todd a stern gaze. "Honestly, I don't have to be with you guys all the time".

"It's alright, Quatre" soothed Thomas. "You know how Todd is. Eric'll kick his prick ass later. Nobody else is upset with you, but we _are_ all very curious as to who that handsome young man was that whisked you away from us."

Quatre couldn't help but smile as steadfast Thomas diffused the tense situation. Everyone in school had a suspicion that Ivy Leaguer Thomas Pattenson preferred guys, though he had never admitted to it. He purposefully left his sexuality rather ambiguous, often making comments that suggested to the blonde that he swung both ways. It was just another reason Quatre liked him so much.

"He's a friend." Quatre explained casually, fixing his eyes on Maria. "I just haven't seen him in almost a year. That's all."

The feisty Spaniard gave him a shrewd look, the sparkle in her eyes told him he was caught. "Mm hmm," she commented with a sniff. "Right, you think we're really that stupid? It's written all over your face. You like him."

"Well, yeah. He is my friend. I think there would be a problem if I didn't like him," Quatre replied, in a last ditch attempt to throw her off. The smiles plastered on everyone's faces confirmed his fears. They weren't buying it.

"Smart ass, you know what I mean," accused Maria. "So you haven't told him then?"

Quatre shook his head, dropping his gaze to the ground. "Is it really that obvious," he asked with a sigh.

Jaime chimed in. "Yeah, honey. It kinda is."

Quatre sighed again and rolled his eyes in defeat. The others laughed and the lovesick blonde couldn't help but smile.

* * *

Sally Po and Wufei had just exited enemy territory over the Republic and were headed on the fastest route back to their Preventers headquarters. At the moment they were currently communicating directly with Lady Une over a vid screen. "…organizing themselves for an attack. They're mobilizing faster than we expected," reported Sally.

"The largest front will most likely attack the Preventers' main force in Europe while smaller forces target Preventers' resistance near the areas they want to take control of. The Middle East will be a target for sure. Their oil reserves are still plentiful and would be monetarily very beneficial to the Republic. China and India too, for there silk trades, no doubt," added Wufei.

The beautiful Preventers' commander nodded thoughtfully, her caramel colored hair bobbing across her shoulders as she took in the information and calculated it in her mind. Coming from a strong military background, having worked for the OZ organization directly under Treize Khushrenada, Lady Une could see very well just how dangerous the Republic of Eurussia was right now.

Though most of the Preventers' mobile suite soldiers where veterans from the war with the colonies in AC 195 and the Mariemaia Incident only a year previous, they were few and, most likely, less prepared than those soldiers chomping at the bit to start the fight over in the Republic.

The Preventers' numbers totaled maybe slightly over four thousand, by Une's rough estimation and according to Sally and Wufei's information that meant that they were outnumbered five to one. The odds weren't horrible. The Lady had gone into battle with less and had come out victorious. But the soldiers they had were not all OZ Specials officers nor were they all gundam pilots. Despite the confidence she had in her people, she didn't like the idea of going up against the Republic with the current odds. She felt like they were bluffing in a poker tournament with a two pair against the house's straight flush.

"I'll send operatives to pick up the other three. Get back here as safely and quickly as possible," she told them before terminating the connection and calling upon her personal aide. A tall middle aged woman with legs up to her neck answered the summons immediately. She stood just inside the Lady's closed office door, expectantly awaiting her orders.

Lady Une rose from her plush leather chair that resided behind a large natural wooden desk of dark mahogany and walked over to the glass window. Gazing out across the lawn of the Preventers' base, she watched the wind play delightedly with the grass and trees. "Send three of our best agents to approach gundam pilots zeros two, three, and four. Make sure they know that they are Preventers and not with the Republic, other wise we might not get them back," she ordered crisply. The former OZ colonel heard the door quietly open and click shut. She knew her orders would be carried out to the letter. She only hoped she could get the pilots in time to make a difference.

* * *

Quatre's mind was wandering again. It was becoming something of a bad habit with him lately. As much as he tried, he couldn't tear his mind away from Trowa Barton in order to concentrate on school. His friends, whenever they had a class with him, would glance over at the blonde and smile knowingly at the vacant expression on his face.

Currently they were in Human Anatomy and Physiology and Quatre vaguely remembered the professor mentioning something about the cardiovascular system. The nasally voice of the headmaster's secretary clamored over the loudspeaker in the classroom, "Quatre Raberba Winner to the office. Quatre Raberba Winner to the office."

That got his attention.

He looked up quizzically at the professor who shrugged. "Get it over with and come on back as soon as you can. There's stuff in this lecture that'll be on next week's test and I'd rather you not miss it." He was met with multiple taunting "uh oh's" as he gathered his things together, walked down the aisle way between desks and out the door. Quatre caught the surprised, yet curious faces of Suzzie and Eric both as he walked past.

The blonde wondered what they could possibly need him for down in the office as he stepped briskly down the corridors. A and P was not a class he enjoyed getting out of for any reason. His question was answered immediately as the headmaster's secretary ushered him into the man's personal office. Rashid was standing just to the side of the elder man's desk, a grim expression etched upon his face. The headmaster looked a bit confused.

Quatre glanced from Rashid over to the headmaster and back again. "What's going on?" he asked no one in particular.

"I'm pulling you out," Rashid explained in a stern no-questions tone of voice. Quatre felt his heart plummet. That was bad. Very, very bad.

"Rashid here has informed me that your family is having some sort of emergency and that you must be present, especially since it directly involves WEI, though he won't elaborate any further" explained the headmaster, bringing the blonde's attention back onto him. The old man obviously smelled something fishy, but what could he really do about it? Everyone's knowledge of that fact caused Quatre to feel smothered.

Quatre closed his eyes. Rashid was covering something up and he had a sickening feeling he knew exactly what it was. "I've told the headmaster to make sure lecture copies and homework from all of your classes are held until you return," the big man told him as he placed a large, calloused hand on his shoulder and gently directed him out through the headmaster's and secretary's doors and into the hallway.

Quatre said not a word until the two of them were sitting in Rashid's pick up truck, driving in the direction of the airport. "How bad?" he asked, discarding his academic blazer and tie as he stared out the window. He wanted to take in as much of beautiful Wilmington as he could before flying off into God knew what mess.

"Lady Une is calling all of you in. Some upstart operative came by the house, said something about the Republic massing for an offensive strike and needing more aces up their sleeves…which means you," the giant Arab explained. The tone in his voice was hard, forced. Quatre glanced up at him. Since taking on the responsibility of being his legal guardian, Rashid had melded into a pseudo-father figure to the blonde very easily and that fatherly need to protect was evident on the big man's face. Quatre felt a heavy pang of guilt, mixed in with Rashid's concern, fear, and simmering anger.

"You knew this was going to happen," the blonde told him kindly. He loved Rashid and felt that love more acutely in this moment than ever before. Funny, he thought to himself, that we should feel our most precious emotions the strongest right before they may be torn away from us.

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," he growled back. "He wanted to come take you out of school himself."

Quatre heard the self satisfaction creep into the older man's voice. The youth grinned, despite the seriousness of the situation. "Oh no, Rashid. What did you tell him?"

Rashid smiled and stole a glance down at his young master before returning his eyes to the road. "Just that he could stick it up his you know what and that he could go meet us at the airport while I pick you up myself. I think I might have offended the poor man's sensibilities," he replied, sounding a bit too pleased with himself. Quatre laughed.

The rest of the ride to the airport was lost in silence however. Quatre watching the ocean break against the ruggedly picturesque coastline while Rashid brooded unhappily.

Upon arriving, a short, stocky man greeted Quatre with a warm, but no-nonsense smile. He shot Rashid a quick, but spiteful glare as the big Arabian retrieved a large duffle bag from the bed of the truck. "Name's Jimmy Monahan. I'll be escorting you to Lady Une," he explained as the three of them made their way through the airport. Jimmy's Preventers' credentials sweeping them through security and customs. The guy kept talking as they went. "We've already got your friend all set in the plane." Quatre's heart fluttered excitedly at the mention of Trowa. "We're just waiting on you. The last guy's already on his way, but won't meet up at base until roughly five hours after us."

Finally, the trio reached the departure terminal where Rashid and the smaller blonde paused to face each other. Jimmy wisely continued on until he was just inside the tunnel, giving the two some privacy. Rashid gently pulled Quatre's school bag off his shoulder, which had un-noticeably tagged along, and handed him the duffle bag.

"I took the liberty of getting some of your things together. There's all the things you'll immediately need in there, including two very handy semi automatics and some spare clips," he said as he gazed down protectively at the young man he had come to view as a son. The phrase 'they grow up too fast' came to mind as he sized up the young Winner heir. It seemed to him as if he was now really seeing him for the first time in a long while. The blonde was almost completely grown up and the older Arabian didn't have to look down quite as much as he used to.

Quatre smiled confidently at his friend, mentor and confidante. He knew this was hard on the man. Rashid had been thrilled when Quatre had decided to try to have as normal a life as possible. Watching him go off to fight in another war must be cruelty to him. "It'll be fine, Rashid. Don't worry too much. We'll go out, have some target practice, blow up some things, and everything will get back to normal in no time."

Rashid couldn't help but smile, a sad smile, but a smile none the less. The young aristocrat had developed a bit of cockiness too it seemed. "Don't get too impetuous. I want you to come back alive," he warned, his voice catching with emotion that was quickly getting hard to suppress. "I'll take care of things here. The others will want to fight too, but getting everyone together may be tricky. I'll send word to you when I can."

"Rashid…" started Quatre as the realization of what Rashid was saying quickly dawned on him. The blonde didn't want the Maguanacs to take up arms just because he was. However, Rashid seemed to know exactly where he was going and with a shake of his head, held up a hand to stop the youth from continuing.

"Honestly, did you think we wouldn't?" he asked. "Master Quatre, you should know better by now."

Quatre promptly shut his mouth and smiled sheepishly. "Thanks Rashid." In the background he heard Jimmy tentatively clear his throat.

The big man stepped back a pace, looking hard at the blonde. He'd procrastinated letting him go long enough. "Go on. The sooner you get there the better prepared you'll be. I'll meet up with you when I can."

With sadness and regret, Quatre tossed the duffle bag across his shoulder and joined Jimmy in the terminal tunnel, leaving Rashid to stare unwillingly as his charge all too readily walked off toward an uncertain and most dangerous future.

The Arabian waited until the plane was out of site before leaving the airport. He had a lot of work to do and time was against him.


	7. Chapter 7

Back to Reality

The blonde followed Jimmy past the pilots of the little plane and into the cabin area. It was a smaller plane than he had expected. It was nothing more than a puddle jumper really, housing two rows of three seats on each side of the cramped plane. It was so nondescript on the inside that he didn't have a doubt that the aircraft was even more nondescript on the outside. Certainly it wouldn't have any Preventers' identifying marks. Quatre was certain that the government agency had kept this plane appearing as common and uninteresting as they could.

The seventeen year old was unsurprised to notice that two seats were already taken. He noticed first a rather ordinary looking man. Quatre pegged him in his late thirties or early forties. He had brown hair, brown eyes, average height and build with easily twenty extra pounds on him. Completely uninteresting and ordinary. The stranger looked just like any average Joe on the street. Quatre wouldn't have been able to pick him out of a line up if he'd tried.

Obviously sensing eyes on him, Average Joe (as Quatre silently dubbed him) looked up from the stack of papers he had been studying and gave the youngster a large smile. "Hey kid!" he called in a warm greeting. His smile was as unremarkable as the rest of him. Quatre wasn't surprised. "Glad you got here alright. Jimmy just about threw a fit when your legal guardian just about tossed him out of the house" he said with an amused chuckle. "Not that we're expecting any trouble getting you kids where you need to be, but still…"

Quatre kindly gave the man a small grin in response. He really didn't feel like carrying on in idle chit chat, but neither did he want to come off as unapproachable either. "I'm Mark Casey, by the way. Jimmy's partner. Nice to meet you, though I wish I didn't have to…if you catch my meaning" he continued. Average name too, the blonde thought. Shock.

Jimmy promptly took a seat beside his partner and began discussing quietly with the man. Quatre took the hint and walked over to the row with the only other occupant. Trowa was sitting comfortably, one leg draped over the other in his usual stance and reclining slightly in his seat. Quatre idly thought the young man would have been perfectly comfortable sleeping on a cold rock. Quatre shook his head in amazement.

He took the seat closest to the isle, leaving a seat between them. Quatre couldn't help but think of his dream earlier in the morning as he sat near the older youth. The blonde felt his face redden slightly at the thought and was immediately grateful that his friend was currently sleeping.

A vibrant green eye sprang open to stare at the younger blonde. Trowa could feel an awkwardness emanating from the smaller pilot. He frowned inwardly. That wasn't like Quatre. The taller youth watched Quatre stare idly past the two Preventers officers, oblivious to the fact that his friend was now awake. Most people would have missed the hints: the slightly darker shade of his eyes, the rigidity in his back that simply was not the byproduct of good posture, and the barely perceptible tenseness in his muscles that shouldn't normally exist. They were minute changes. But they were there nonetheless and Trowa was keenly aware of them. For Quatre to consciously keep something that was bothering him to himself…something was wrong.

"Alright, Quatre?" he asked.

The other gundam pilot jumped in his seat, suddenly pulled out of his thoughts. "Huh? What?" Quatre asked in surprise as his head whipped around to look at his friend.

"Are you alright?" repeated Trowa, a little slower this time to allow Quatre's flustered mind to digest the simple question.

"Oh, sorry Trowa" Quatre replied. "I was just lost in thought. Yes, I'm alright" the blonde assured him.

The brunette nodded at his friend's explanation, even though he didn't completely buy it. There was more to his discomfort than he was letting on. Trowa was not about to let Quatre off the hook that easily. "That may be true, but there's more than that." Trowa prodded. "Something's bothering you, Quatre. What is it?"

That elicited a small frown from the blonde. "Nothing's wrong Trowa" he insisted. "Look what situation we're in" he instructed the other pilot. "Considering the state of things, I'm fine. Really."

And with that Quatre flashed him that million dollar Winner family smile. It made the young man melt. He knew right then that Quatre had just won that round. There was not a doubt in his mind that something was not sitting completely right with the handsome young blonde though. He wasn't about to just let the matter drop. However, now was not the place to pursue the matter. He'd have to talk to Quatre about it later. Privately.

Privately. That line of thinking took his mind somewhere it shouldn't have gone and soon enough it was the reserved brunette that was lost in his own thoughts.

Quatre smiled to himself as he noticed Trowa recess into himself. Quatre inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. He was relieved that Trowa had let the conversation drop. The last thing he really wanted to confess to Trowa about was his impure thoughts regarding his friend and comrade in arms. To be honest, it was a conversation he would rather avoid at all costs at the moment. Not only did he believe that Trowa was as straight as an arrow, but he felt that a distraction like that, and the tension that would undoubtedly follow such a confession, could possibly jeopardize their effectiveness to work together as a team. Quatre shuddered at that possibility.

No. It was too risky at the present. The blonde would keep his feelings to himself and his mouth shut.

Quatre turned his gaze over to the two Preventers and allowed his mind to play through all of the possible moves that the Republic might make. Needless to say he didn't like any of them. The fight they were about to enter would be a hard one.

Suddenly the engines fired up below their feet and the captain boomed across the intercom, instructing everyone to fasten their seatbelts and enjoy the ride. Trowa was thrust out of his reverie as he felt the plane move and taxi out to the runway. In another minute he felt himself pushed back slightly in his seat as the plane left the ground.

In only a couple of hours they would be in a war zone.

Castonev sat in his luxurious conference room, surrounded by most of his generals. Ten battle-tested men sat around the large Royal Oak table. Another twelve were currently occupying four large TVs located on the side walls of the room. Three generals were situated in each TV that were linked to his other four military compounds (Perun, Dazhdbog, Silbog, and Belbog respectively) located across Eurussia.

They were discussing strategy and tactics to use against the ESUN. Forces would be ready to move out in less than twenty four hours. They would hit hard and hit fast. The ultimate goal was to break down the Preventers' strength in the Middle East and parts of Asia and former Europe.

The largest strike would be aimed at the Preventers' main base in what was formerly known as the Sanq Kingdome. Though it was the largest assault planned, it was merely a diversion. With the bulk of the Preventers' forces being occupied by Castonev's vanguard from Suvid, his other bases would unleash their forces into his real targets: the Middle East and Asia.

Once those areas had been sufficiently taken, he would ease his assault on the Preventers. His goal was not total domination of the Earth or to overthrow the entire Preventers' forces and usurp the ESUN. It was simply to push them out of prized territory. After the onslaught was over, Castonev intended to come to an agreement with the ESUN to allow the Russian to keep the newly acquired territory so long as no further militaristic actions were taken against the ESUN.

Yes, it was a good plan.

Castonev smiled to himself as he dismissed his generals. Their faces reflected his own visage, that of supreme confidence in the knowledge that nothing could stand in their way.


End file.
